The Long Road Home
by lily anson
Summary: One shots about certain points in Crowley's life after he was cured during the trials. Mentions of charter death that happened in the past. No overt descriptions or details of the character deaths.
1. Flowers For A Ghost

**A/N:** After losing everyone he's ever cared about Crowley visits a friend. Usually he visits once a week but sometimes it's hard to go home. When that happens he visits more often.

* * *

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* * *

"I know, I'm early again," Crowley said sitting down on the bench. "It's just hard to go home sometimes. Besides, I brought you more flowers." Crowley smiled. "Sam would hate them you know?" He shook his head. "Of course you know. I've told you that how many times already? So Gina was out sick. The lady that was filling in for her was nice enough, though. She asked me if the flowers were for someone special."

Crowley smiled lightly as he set the flowers down on the bench next to him.

"Of course I didn't tell her they were for you. Just a wink and a smirk, you know the drill by now I'm sure. It's not like I don't repeat myself often enough. I can just picture Dean rolling his eyes."

Crowley frowned.

"If anyone could have helped him it would have been you, but then you know that. If I haven't said it enough I'm sure Sam has. By the way how is he doing? Probably better now, I suppose. I can just picture the reunion. Those two always were inseparable. Before you start, yes I still blame myself, no you aren't going to change my mind. It's been too many years and you haven't changed my mind yet."

Crowley lapsed into silence. It seemed like he did that more and more often. He figured if anyone would understand it would be her.

"In other news, Ben got married. I suppose you already knew that but I like to make sure you're up to date on everything. They looked happy. She kind of looks like you. Well, you have to squint a little," Crowley said smiling. "Hopefully I'll still be around to see them have children. I'm pretty sure I don't have much time left. Old age isn't really all it's cracked up to be. Never thought I'd ever have to worry about that," Crowley said shaking his head.

Crowley absently chewed on his lower lip for a while.

"Tell Sam thank you for me? And don't forget to call him a moron. Yes, yes. Second chances and all that."

Crowley waved a hand dismissively.

"Stupid Moose," Crowley grumbled. "There's second chances and then there's common sense. The world needed him." Crowley paused. "I needed him," he whispered.

Crowley paused trying to remember if he had forgotten to tell her anything. Nothing sprang to mind.

"I suppose I should go home. As always, you've been lovely company. I hope I haven't bored you too much."

Standing Crowley reached down and picked up the flowers. He stood for a few more seconds staring at the stone in front of him. Bending slightly he dropped the flowers on top of her grave.

"Until next time, Lisa."

Shoving his hands into his pockets he made his way out of the cemetery.


	2. Hope For The Hopeless

**A/N:** Too much self-pity is bad for the soul. Crowley attempts to work through guilt and apologizes for things that were beyond his control.

(Not all weeks are written. Some stories might have a visit or two between them.)

* * *

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* * *

"It's Sunday again," Crowley stated.

Sitting on his bench he put the flowers down beside him.

"Before you say anything they were out of lilies. Something about their suppliers having an insect infestation or something. I don't know. Honestly I wasn't paying that much attention."

Crowley shrugged.

"Gina accused me of patronizing her shop solely to flirt with her. She's probably right," Crowley said with a small grin. "Can you blame me?"

Leaning back against the bench he closed his eyes. It was getting colder but it wasn't too bad yet. Soon the days would get bitter. Still he would make sure to visit every Sunday. More if he found himself getting restless. Visiting with Lisa always calmed him. Opening his eyes he sat forward again.

"I want to thank you again for letting me stay with you after I was cured. I know Dean didn't really appreciate my presence. I really hoped that after I left things would get better between you two. I know I'm not supposed to apologize about that anymore but I am sorry. It's hard not to feel guilty about how things turned out when I was the reason his brother died."

Crowley shook his head.

"Yes, Lisa," Crowley huffed. "I know, I know. He made the decision. I can still feel guilty about it."

Crowley chewed on his lower lip as he reminisced. 

* * *

_"Easy there. Okay. Just take it easy. We got a slight change of plan."_

 _"What? What's going on? Where's Cas?"_

 _"Metatron lied. You finish this trial, you're dead, Sam."_

 _"So?"_

* * *

"You know, a part of me hoped Sam would finish curing me? I don't think I ever told you that." He laughed derisively. "Hell, I don't think I ever told anyone that. I _wanted_ Dean to be wrong. I _wanted_ to be cured. I _didn't_ want Sam to die. You have to believe that. If I had known…"

Crowley shook his head again.

"I suppose I did know. I just didn't want to believe," Crowley said sadly. "Even then I knew I needed help. I didn't want to believe he wouldn't be there. I know Dean needed Sam. Anyone who ever met them knew they were co-dependent. I needed him too, though. For the longest time I thought I could do everything on my own. I never wanted to be dependent on anyone. I always viewed it as a weakness… Then I met the Winchesters."

Crowley bit his lower lip.

"I'm glad they're together again, I am. It's just that sometimes I need him here as well. That's probably enough feeling sorry for myself for one day. I can imagine what Sam would say if he was listening. As always, you've been lovely company. I'll try to be better company next time."

Picking up the flowers Crowley leaned down and placed them on the grave.

"Until next time."

Turning he made his way out of the cemetery.


	3. Remembrance: Life Goes On

**A/N:** After a night of drinking Crowley takes a cab to celebrate his birthday. The date: September twenty-nine, the day he was cured and became human once again. The same day that Sam died. 

* * *

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* * *

Slamming the door shut Crowley reached into his pocket and retrieved his wallet. Opening it he realized he didn't have anything smaller than a fifty. Crowley stumbled slightly but managed to keep his footing.

"How much," Crowley asked.

"Twelve eighty."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "I don't suppose you have change for a fifty?"

"Nope, sorry."

"Whatever," Crowley muttered shoving the money at the cabbie. "Keep it."

Making sure he was holding the flowers in a way they wouldn't get crushed he made his way into the cemetery. He didn't have far to walk, Lisa had been buried close to the front. He managed to stagger to his bench and drop down onto it. Setting the flowers down he rubbed a hand over his face a few times before dropping it back into his lap.

"Hey," Crowley said quietly. "Sorry about the hour but it is technically a Sunday."

Damn he'd had too much to drink. He always forgot how being drunk felt. It was one of the two days a year he ever drank. His birthday had been lost to him forever ago. He now celebrated his birthday as well as mourned the loss of Sam every year on September twenty-ninth. The day he had been cured. The only other day he drank was May second. May second was Sam's birthday and the day Dean had died. For a time Crowley had wondered if Dean had gone out with the intentions of getting himself killed that night. After a while Crowley had decided he really didn't want to know and stopped thinking about it.

"I know, I know," Crowley grumbled. "I promised I wouldn't show up drunk this year." Crowley shrugged. "What can I say? Yet another thing I messed up." He moved to get more comfortable. Was the bench always this hard? "I never intend to come here on this date but somehow it always happens, doesn't it? It coincided with a Sunday this year and that was all it took. You know me, sentimental and all."

Crowley's eyes settled on the flowers sitting on the bench next to him.

"Oh yeah. Gina's shop doesn't open until seven. The only place that was open at this hour didn't have lilies. Sorry. Maybe I'll bring you some later today. Would you like that?"

Cocking his head he stared at the tombstone in front of him. If he concentrated hard enough he could almost hear what she would say.

"It's never a waste of money to bring beautiful flowers to a beautiful lady," Crowley replied closing his eyes, trying to picture her. He frowned when he realized how hazy the memories were becoming. Crowley bit his lower lip and opened his eyes. "He loved you, you know. He just couldn't handle losing Sam. But then, you knew that. In other news I think I drank too much tonight. I know, shocker, right?"

Crowley leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "Didn't drive though. So that much is good, right? Fuck." Crowley winced. "Sorry didn't mean to let that slip out. I know, I know. You don't like people that drink to excess. I only do it twice a year though, and only one of those days do I spend here. Maybe you could forgive me this once?"

Closing his eyes again Crowley pictured Sam. As always those images came through clearly. There were times when he almost wished they didn't. He didn't know what he would do if his memories of Sam faded.

"Tell Sam I was thinking of him, please. Tell him… Oh, bloody hell. Tell him anything you want. It's not like he can't see me screwing up the second chance he gave me. As always, you've been lovely company. Sorry I couldn't return the favor."

Grabbing the flowers Crowley leaned forward and set them on the grave.

"Until next time."


	4. All I Ever Wanted

**A/N:** Crowley would love nothing more than to fix everything he feels he screwed up. Unfortunately you don't always get that chance.

* * *

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* * *

Sitting down on the bench Crowley set the flowers down beside him and chewed on his lower lip.

"So, I'm sorry about last Sunday," he began. "I'd say I don't know what came over me but we both know that's a lie. Every year I tell myself it's the last time and every year I do it again. I just miss him, alright? He promised! When he cured me he promised he would watch over me, help me learn to be human again. Yes, I know Dean needed him but, damn it, so did I!"

Crowley glared straight ahead breathing heavily. It had been many years since he had become human. Since that day a lot of things had changed. After the first few months he didn't mind the loss of his demonic powers so much. He never quite got over the loss of being able to blink places but after a while he found a certain solace in walking. What hit him the hardest was the slow gradual loss of energy. He still walked every morning but it was taking more and more energy just to go the same distance.

"Sorry," Crowley apologized. "I shouldn't have yelled."

Crowley scrubbed his face with both hands.

"And don't say it's okay," he snapped.

Instantly he winced at the tone of his voice.

"Sorry," Crowley muttered again. "It's just that, after everything you went through between the two of us… No one person should have had to put up with either of us then. We were both too broken."

Crowley bit his lower lip hard.

"At least Dean never hit you," Crowley whispered. "And yes, I'm still going to counseling every Thursday. I would never have gone if it hadn't been for you. I know you hate it when I apologize for that but I am sorry. If it helps I don't have anywhere near as many nightmares anymore," Crowley offered.

Pressing his lips together he shook his head.

"I'm sorry about the outburst earlier. I wish there was some way we could rewind life. I wish I could have… I don't know, done something. You should never have been on the road that night. I'm…" Crowley growled in frustration. "Bollocks! I should probably go. I'll see you next Sunday," Crowley said standing. "As always, you've been lovely company. I, on the other hand..." Crowley clenched his jaw shut and took several deep breaths through his nose until he calmed. Carefully he leaned down and placed the flowers on the grave. "Until next time," Crowley whispered.


	5. She Will Be Missed

**A/N:** Crowley visits Lisa's grave on her birthday.

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* * *

"Happy birthday," Crowley announced as he laid several bouquets of lilies over Lisa's grave. He continued fussing with them until he was satisfied with their placement. "I have to get to work soon but I wanted you to have these early. Ben should be by later, so that should be nice. Hope you two have a lovely visit. I'll try to make it by after work if I get a chance."

Crowley stayed for a few seconds longer before finally leaving.

* * *

When he returned after work he double checked to make sure Ben wasn't still visiting before he finally approached. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Ben. He took every opportunity to be at every important event and stayed as up to date with Ben's life as possible. Ben was the last remaining person out of everyone he had cared about. He definitely wanted to see the boy, he just felt too guilty. He had never talked to Ben since leaving Dean and Lisa.

It had been _his_ fault Lisa had been on the road the night her car had been hit. It was _his_ fault she had died. How could he face her son after that? Still, he kept an eye on Ben and made sure nothing disturbed the kid's life. If necessary he could call on one or two of the hunters he knew. After ruining everything else in the kid's life the least he could do was make sure nothing else from their past interfered in Ben's life.

"Did you have a nice visit," Crowley asked sitting down on the bench. "I wish he would visit more. Maybe when his life settles down," Crowley mused. "I see he rearranged my flowers again."

Every year, for her birthday, Crowley brought Lisa one bouquet of lilies from himself and several more from Dean. Dean used to always make sure Lisa got several bouquets of lilies on her birthday even after she died. After Dean died Crowley continued the tradition. Unlike when Dean bought them and set them on the grave, when Crowley brought them Ben would rearrange them. Crowley had no idea why Ben moved the flowers.

"Maybe now that he got the promotion he'll visit more often."

Crowley paused trying to remember if there was anything else he needed to tell her.

"This morning, as I was leaving, a cat was laying in front of the bunker's door. Scrawny thing, too. I don't know how it was even still alive. I couldn't leave without feeding it. She followed me to the car and watched me leave. Most likely she'll be gone by the time I get back to the bunker but at least she got one good meal."

He paused for a moment thinking back on this morning. He really did hope the cat found a good home. Or at least a reliable source of food. Crowley shook his head before talking again.

"So I went to the doctor again yesterday. They told me if I changed my diet and exercise right I could live a nice long life," Crowley said with a smirk. "I just nodded. I'm pretty sure I've lived longer than anyone has a right to live. When my time comes hopefully I'll be ready. Well, happy birthday. As always, you've been lovely company. Until next time."


	6. In Between

**A/N:** Crowley gets injured and spends some time 'in between'. 

* * *

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* * *

 _Crowley inspected his surroundings surprised. It wasn't Sunday, and he had no knowledge of how he had gotten to the cemetery. His mind came up blank when he tried to remember anything from before he arrived here. For once he wasn't carrying flowers, which was exceedingly odd. He brought flowers every time he came. The second odd thing he noticed was someone sitting on his bench. No one else ever visited at the times he came._

 _Walking closer he felt an uneasy feeling. The figure looked so familiar but there was no way it could be who he thought. Still several feet away Crowley stopped and stared. The figure raised his head and Crowley's breath caught in his throat._

 _"Sam," Crowley whispered._

 _Sam gave a small smile._

 _"But you're dead."_

 _Sam nodded sadly and patted the bench with one hand. Shaking slightly Crowley walked closer and sat down. He left as much room between them as possible._

 _"If you're dead how are you here," Crowley asked._

 _Sam glanced away and Crowley bit his lower lip._

 _"Am I dead," he finally asked._

 _Sam turned back and watched him for a moment. Finally he shook his head. Crowley frowned. "Something happened to me didn't it?"_

 _Sam gave another nod._

 _"Sam," Crowley said suddenly._

 _Sam cocked his head._

 _"Are you happy? I mean…" Crowley trailed off, unsure how to ask what he wanted to know._

 _Sam merely smiled and gave a single nod._

 _"I'm sorry, Sam. You shouldn't have cured me. I mean, thank you. I appreciate it but it wasn't worth it._ I _wasn't worth it."_

 _Sam smiled and gave Crowley's hand a reassuring pat. Even knowing this wasn't real and Sam was still dead, somehow Crowley felt more at peace than he had in a long time. He was loathe to break the calm that settled over them. Still, he had to know._

 _"Why are we here?"_

 _Reaching out Sam placed a hand on Crowley's cheek. For a minute neither moved. After a few moments Sam gently turned Crowley to face forward. They watched in silence as the sun set. As the last of the sun finally set Crowley turned back to Sam only to be greeted with a brilliant white light that blotted out his vision._

When Crowley finally opened his eyes he was greeted by a masked face. Instantly he flinched back and tried to bring his arms up to defend himself. Hands held his arms down as he struggled against them.

"Easy there. Calm down, you're alright. Just calm down."

"Let go," Crowley growled, still struggling.

"We can't do that until you calm down," the man in the green face mask stated.

"Where am I," Crowley demanded.

"Silverstone General Hospital, the man replied.

"Why am I here," Crowley asked, still tense but no longer struggling.

"What's the last thing you remember" the man said, finally releasing Crowley.

The last thing he remembered? Everything came crashing back. The last thing he remembered doing was helping a hunter with a routine salt and burn. Damn it. He needed to check on the hunter. What was his name? Jeff? Newbie who wanted revenge for something, of course. Didn't they all start that way?

"Don't worry about it, doc. I'm good."

"You're still pretty cut up. I recommend you stay for at least another twenty-four hours before-"

"Today's Saturday isn't it?"

"Yes," the doctor answered sounding confused.

"Can't stay, sorry. People to see, places to go," Crowley stated, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He had to check on Jeff and go visit Lisa tomorrow. No way he was hanging around here when none of his injuries were life threatening.

"You really shouldn't be leave until-"

"Understood. Don't worry doc, I'll be fine."

Without waiting for a response Crowley hopped off the bed. Wincing slightly as his feet hit the floor he made his way out of the room without a second look back.


	7. Meant To Live

**A/N:** Crowley gets confronted by Ben.

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* * *

Opening the bunker door Crowley paused when he saw the cat stretched out on the ground watching him. Shaking his head he left the door open as he headed back inside to grab a can of tuna. As he shut the cabinet and turned to make his way to the can opener he spied the cat sitting in the archway to the kitchen.

"Friendly little thing aren't you," Crowley said smiling. "I don't have a litter box so you can't stay inside. Come on let's head out so you can eat and I can get to work."

The cat stood up almost as if it understood what he was saying. Crowley shook his head again and made his way to the front door. The cat followed him to the front door and waited patiently as Crowley set the can down on the ground. Cocking its head the cat eyed the tuna briefly before attacking the food. Crowley smiled as he watched the cat eat for a few seconds. Finally he closed the door to the bunker and made his way to his car.

* * *

Crowley made his way to his bench and sat down. Carefully he placed the flowers beside him on the bench. He was really feeling his age today. He found himself _almost_ missing being a demon. _Almost._

"Afternoon," he greeted with a slight tip on his head. "Actually not a lot of news today. Everything's been pretty boring lately. I'm not sure the new guy, Jeff, is going to last long as a hunter. He's reckless, more than Dean ever was on his worst day. He screwed up a random salt and burn and landed me in in the hospital. Doctor thought I should have stayed another day but I had an appointment to keep."

In the years since she died Crowley had only missed the first Sunday after her death. He had been in the hospital until the following Wednesday. After a night of heavy drinking he called Lisa for a ride. When she didn't show and he couldn't get an answer on her cell he had gotten annoyed and started walking. It wasn't until he had made it back to the house and found her missing that he started worrying.

No one had been at the house. Crowley's unease grew as he tried to figure out where everyone had gone. Finally after three previous calls Dean finally answered Crowley's fourth call. That was when Crowley learned Lisa had indeed left to retrieve him but had been hit by a drunk driver and had been transported to the hospital. Dean had told Crowley he wasn't welcome at the hospital and not to show but Crowley couldn't stop himself.

When he arrived at her room he stopped dead and stared at the injured body of the woman he had come to depend on since being cured. Almost instantly Dean shoved him back out of the room and began yelling. It escalated and ended with Dean beating the hell out of him and Crowley being admitted to the hospital. That had been on a Saturday night. It wasn't until Wednesday that he had been released from the hospital. It had taken four more days for him to work up the courage to visit Lisa's grave. He hadn't missed a Sunday since then.

"So the cat came back. Maybe I should name her? What do you think?"

He pause to give her time to respond. Just before he started to reply to what he imagined she would have said a car parked next to his and the driver side door opened. When Crowley realized who was getting out of the car he stared stunned. Ben never visited on Sundays and never this late. It's why Crowley general came at this hour or later. He specifically timed his visits to keep from accidently running into Ben.

Crowley stood. Racking his brain he tried to come up with a logic reason for his hasty departure in case Ben asked. He intended to make his way past Ben without making eye contact and hopefully not having to worry about forming a response. He could only imagine what Ben thought of him. The person responsible for his mother's death? Ben had to hate him. As they drew closer to each other Crowley chewed on his lower lip nervously. He stopped suddenly when Ben blocked his path.

"Crowley," Ben said flatly.

"I was just leaving," Crowley answered, still not meeting the kid's eyes.

"The hell you were. You didn't even put the flowers on her grave yet."

Crowley chewed his lower lip trying to come up with good excuse for that.

"Don't," Ben huffed. "You're avoiding me. You've been avoiding me since she died."

"I wouldn't call it avoiding precisely," Crowley muttered.

"I would. It's time you stopped wallowing in self pity."

Crowley's eyebrows drew together in confusion as his jerked his head up to meet Ben's eyes. "Excuse me?"

"You've been avoiding me ever since she died. Okay, yeah, for most of that time I technically had Dean. To be fair to him he did try, but honestly? He never really got over his brother's death. Mom's death didn't help matters. I can understand where his mind was at the time but that didn't help me. I needed someone to be there for me too. At least Dean tried. You, on the other hand, ran away."

"I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. You ran away to feel sorry for yourself. I can understand why. You felt like, what, it was your fault? Something like that? You were new to those emotions. You weren't sure how to deal with everything so you ran."

Crowley bit his lower lip and said nothing.

"It's gone on long enough though. Besides Dean you're the only other person that knew my mom. Really knew her. You're the only person left who can talk to me about her. I can tell others what she was like but you _knew_ her. I can't even visit Dean's grave and talk to him like you do with mom."

"Hunters don't get buried," Crowley whispered.

"You think I don't know that," Ben snapped. "I know that better than any other non-hunter. By the way you should have let me go say goodbye one last time before you burned his body."

"I wasn't sure if you were ready for something like that."

"You got his car. I don't even have anything to remember him by."

"I was going to leave the car to you after I passed. I knew he'd want you to have it. I also have a few things stashed back for you. I just wasn't sure how you'd react, especially with them coming from me."

"He left me things and you kept them?"

"No. I just gathered things I thought you might want. Truthfully I actually gathered everything of his and stored it all. I just have a box of things I thought might mean more than the rest. Ben?"

"Yes?"

"I didn't mean to avoid you. I just couldn't face you right afterward."

"You're the only one left that really remembers what my mom was like. You're going to have to start working on whatever guilt you still have left. I'm not going to let you continue avoiding me any longer."

"Understood. Ben?"

"Yes?"

"Would you mind if I said goodbye for today to your mother? If you don't mind I think we should go back to the bunker so I can give you the box of Dean's things. I think he'd like for you to have them."

"Sure. I'll wait here until you're done."

Crowley smiled, relieved. He had come to value his time alone with Lisa. With a nod he made his way back to the grave. Reaching down he grabbed the flowers off of the bench and held them as he turned back to face the gravestone.

"So Ben showed up." Crowley told her. "I, uh… I promised to take him back to the bunker so I really have to be going." Reaching down he laid the flowers down on the grave. "As always, you've been lovely company. Until next time."


	8. If You Only Knew

**A/N:** Crowley cooks and talks with an old friend. 

* * *

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* * *

Crowley breaded the piece of chicken fried steak and moved to the stove. This was this first time he had ever tried to make chicken fried steak. Cooking was one of the few things in life he had come to love. He tried new recipes whenever possible. Some came out well and some not so much. Crowley picked up the piece of breaded meat and prepared to drop it into the pan of hot oil.

"Hello."

Crowley jumped at the angel's sudden appearance. He dropped the piece of meat into the pan faster than he had intended. Grease splattered everywhere including over his hand.

"Fuck! Bloody hell," Crowley yelled.

"Crowley," Castiel asked concerned.

"Damn it," Crowley muttered moving to the sink.

Castiel stopped him and reached for his hand. Crowley drew his hand back and glared at the angel.

"Crowley," Castiel huffed. "Let me see it."

"It's fine," Crowley growled.

"It's my fault. At least let me look at it," Castiel insisted.

"We both know you won't just look at it."

"It's my fault you got injured. Let me fix what I caused."

"Fine," Crowley huffed. He rolled his eyes and held his hand out to the angel.

Castiel took the hand gently and within seconds the pain was gone. Crowley shook his head. He shouldn't be angry at the angel. Castiel checked in with him at least once a month. He really should have expected this visit.

"Hold on a second."

Crowley turned back to check on the food. As he finished cooking it Castiel took a seat at the table and waited quietly. There was a salad in the fridge. Along with the Chicken fried steak he also made brown gravy and a can of corn. One new thing at a time. Lately his focus had been on southern foods. When everything was finished he moved all the food to the table.

Slicing off part of the chicken fried steak he walked over to the corner with two bowls on the floor and placed the piece of meat in one of the bowls. Crowley stood back and counted. One, two, three. As always the cat came running into the kitchen headed straight for the food. She would sometimes leave small bits of her cat food in the bowl but never human food.

"You adopted a cat," Castiel asked.

"It's more like she adopted me," Crowley informed the angel.

"What's her name?"

"I call her Moose," Crowley murmured.

For a while neither said anything. Moose finished eating her piece of chicken fried steak and turned back to Crowley. Cocking her head she eyed him hopefully and meowed once. Crowley smiled and shook his head.

"Nope, that's all you get. Too much human food is bad for you."

"She has Sam's eyes," Castiel said quietly.

Crowley's eyes slid shut. "Yes," he agreed.

"Sorry."

Crowley opened his eyes. "Nope. No being sorry. Any memories of Sam are always good memories," he said smiling.

"Crowley?"

"Hm?"

"Why don't you ever ask about them?"

"You said they were in heaven. That's all I needed to know."

"You don't wonder about them at all?"

"If they're in heaven then they're happy. That's all I care about."

For a while they were both silent.

"You know Sam asks about you," Castiel stated casually.

Crowley bit his lower lip. "I'm doing what I can to make the best of the second chance he gave me. Maybe by the time I pass I'll have made partial restitution for some of the damage I've done as a demon."

"Crowley-"

"No. Don't Castiel. I've made my peace with that part of my life. Allow me enough dignity to move past that and try to make the best of what I've been given."

Castiel nodded once and they both fell back into silence.


	9. If Today Was Your Last Day

**A/N:** Crowley trains his replacement for the keeper of the Men of Letters bunker and helper for other hunters. 

* * *

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* * *

Crowley sat in the library of the bunker inspecting the news for anything out of the ordinary. There were signs that could point to cases but all in all it looked pretty quiet. From somewhere outside of the library there was a loud curse followed by several loud noises. Standing Crowley started to make his way out of the library. Moose ran past him just as he was exiting the room. He found Marc in the hallway. Several books and other items were scattered across the floor.

"That damned cat of yours is going to kill me one of these days," Marc huffed.

"Moose lives here too. You're just going to have to keep an eye open for her."

"I swear she hates me," Marc complained.

"Moose doesn't hate anyone. You said it yourself when you first moved in, you hate cats."

"Fleabag," Marc muttered.

Crowley helped Marc finish gathering things and carried them to the library just as the phone rang.

"I got it," Marc sighed. "After all this is going to be my job eventually. May as well start doing more."

Crowley sat down in the chair he'd been reading in and watched Marc. He had been training Marc to take his place after he died. Since Crowley had moved into the bunker he had slowly found himself more and more involved in the hunting world. Eventually he ended up taking on a role as mentor and organizer. Crowley's mind drifted to Bobby. A lot of hunters had lost a good friend and valuable asset when the older hunter had been killed. Bobby's death was one of the few that weighed heavier on him more than a lot of others.

After a while Crowley had taken on a similar role. It was the least he could do. If he couldn't hunt, and at his age that would be dangerous, then he could help the hunters. As time drug on he realized that death was inevitable. The least he could do was train someone to take his place. After much searching for a suitable person he finally started training Marc to fill the same roll. After a few months Marc had moved into the bunker.

The older hunter still wanted to be a part of everything but was getting too old to be in the field all the time. By taking over the roll Crowley was currently filling Marc would still be able to help others. It also helped ensure that the bunker remained in good hands and didn't fall into disuse after Crowley passed. Marc hung up and Crowley raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing important," Marc told him. "Just a few local cops questioning the validity of some of our boys. We're good."

Moose ran over to Marc and rubbed against his legs looking for attention. Marc leaned down and pet the cat.

"Stupid fleabag," Marc said with a slight smile.

"Don't insult my cat," Crowley said yawning.

"Yeah yeah," Marc dismissed. "She lives here too."

Crowley yawned again.

"Go take a nap old man."

Crowley smiled and snuggled down in the chair. Reaching behind himself he drug the blanket off the back of the chair and into his lap. "Moose," Crowley called. The cat came running and jumped into his lap. Crowley settled a hand down on the cat and pet her a few times.

"Don't you think you'd be more comfortable in a bed," Marc asked.

"Mm, not moving," Crowley hummed sleepily.

Moose meowed once as if to agree.

"See she agrees."

"She always agrees with you. It's because I won't feed her any human food like you," Marc told him.

"Always spoil women when you can," Crowley advised before yawning again.

"Get some sleep," Marc ordered.

* * *

Crowley woke to someone gently shaking his shoulder. Opening his eyes he saw Marc standing in front of him. Crowley blinked a few times trying to wake up fully.

"What's up," he asked.

"You should get up soon if you don't want to miss your weekly appointment," Marc answered.

Crowley knew what Marc meant. Time to visit Gina for flowers and then Lisa. The one thing he didn't talk about with Marc was why he still visited the grave of someone who didn't have anything to do with the hunting world. Marc, for his part, never asked. Crowley supposed everyone had their reasons for becoming involved in hunting. He never asked Marc what got him into this. Probably for the same reasons Marc didn't ask about Crowley's weekly visits. It was personal.

"I'm up," Crowley told Marc.

"I fed your cat," Marc stated as he turned to leave.

"Thanks," Crowley told him, sitting up.

"Whatever," Marc grumbled.

As much as Marc complained about Moose the other hunter seemed to really care about the cat. Moose seemed to actually like Marc as well. It was one of the many reasons Crowley picked Marc to be his successor after he was gone. He thought about what it would be like when he finally passed. Moose following Marc around as he took over all of the research, acted as a check in so they knew which hunters were closest to certain cases, took calls and helped the other hunters when needed. Crowley smiled.


	10. Still Holding On

**A/N:** Crowley visits Lisa on his birthday again. Surprisingly he made it there sober this time. 

* * *

.

* * *

Crowley hesitated. Damn he really wanted a drink. For a moment he almost turned and left to go find a bar. No, he ordered himself. For once he wasn't going to give into self pity and get sloshed on this date. He promised every year he wouldn't show up here drunk on this date and this year he intended to keep that promise. Afterwards, he mollified himself. There would be time to drink himself into oblivion after the visit. He sat down and placed the flowers on the bench next to him.

"Um, hey."

Crowley paused.

"I'm not drunk this year. I won't lie, I wish I wasn't sober. I don't know. It's my fault he's gone, it's my fault you're gone. Hell, it's probably my fault Dean's gone."

Crowley scrubbed his face with his hands.

"I actually kept my promise this year," he whispered. "See, it took a few years but I managed to keep my word to you. Hopefully Sam will be happy I didn't show up here drunk today."

Crowley was silent for a few moments.

"I still miss him, you know?" He shook his head. "Of course you'd know. It's just that no one ever did something like that for me. He gave his life so that I could have a second chance. I can't help but think he should be the one still alive, not me. I wish he hadn't had to die. The world needed him, still needs him. Dean needed him," Crowley finished quietly.

God, he couldn't do this.

"Look, I made it here sober. I have to leave now. My first sober birthday so far. I'm not sure if I can handle the rest of today without a drink. I'll try, though. For you, I'll try."

Standing, Crowley placed the flowers on the grave.

"As always, you've been lovely company. Until next time."


	11. Welcome Home

**A/N:** Crowley goes home. 

* * *

.

* * *

Crowley opened his eyes and looked around. He was on his bench in the graveyard, though he had no idea how he had gotten here. Frowning, he tried to remember the events prior to his arrival here. As he was thinking about it something jumped onto the bench and startled him. Crowley turned and stared.

"Moose?"

The cat sat and meowed at him.

"I hoped you would notice."

Crowley's head swiveled around to the speaker and his breath caught.

"You… You can't…"

"It's one of the main reasons I thought you'd like her."

"You can't be here," Crowley said, finally managing to get the words out.

"May I sit?"

"I…"

"Are you going to make a lady stand?"

"No. Uh, yeah. I mean sit."

She smiled and sat next to him.

"I don't understand," Crowley told her.

Reaching over she pet Moose, and for a while she didn't respond.

"Did you like her," she finally asked.

"Who," Crowley asked, thoroughly confused.

"The cat."

Oh. "She, uh, she needed someone to take care of her," he answered.

"And you needed to take care of someone."

"Did you send her?"

"I asked her if she wouldn't mind."

"She, uh, has Sam's eyes."

"I know. I thought that might help you bond with her."

"Why are you here," Crowley asked, dreading the answer.

"You're scared," she stated. "You shouldn't be."

"If… If what I think happened really happened…"

"There's still no reason for you to worry," she told him softly.

"I can't help it. I'm not ready. I haven't done enough. I'm not… 'good enough' yet."

"You're plenty 'good enough', Crowley. When you were cured you were given a clean slate. Since then all you've done was help others."

"But before… I mean…"

"Before was wiped clean when you were turned human again."

"How?"

"Because that's how it works."

They sat in silence for a while.

"It's time," she finally said.

"I'm not ready. I can't go yet," Crowley insisted.

"You have to, Crowley."

"But, Sam. I mean, what if…"

"Sam has been waiting patiently for this moment. We shouldn't keep him waiting."

"What if…"

"I promise you there's nothing to be afraid of. Trust me?"

Crowley bit his lower lip. Trembling slightly he nodded. She held out her hand and Crowley took it. Together they stood. As they started forward Crowley stopped suddenly and looked back.

"What about Moose?"

"She stays. Someone else might need her later. Perhaps she'll help your friend Marc cope with your absence. Perhaps another needs her. Either way, this is your trip, not hers."

Crowley nodded. Hand in hand he followed as Lisa led him to the unknown. To whatever was meant to be. As he followed her the world around them grew more hazy. Silhouettes began to form in front of them. Crowley slowed when he began to recognize one. Finally he stopped and stared.

"Sam," Crowley whispered.

Sam smiled. "Welcome home."


End file.
